


The Messenger

by A_Fool_in_Love



Category: Fitz and the Fool Trilogy - Robin Hobb
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Who cares about plumbing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 10:16:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6075504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Fool_in_Love/pseuds/A_Fool_in_Love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU that will NOT be in my Concerning series. This demanded to be written last night, and here it is.<br/>Winterfest is a merry time at Withywoods, and Fitz is determined to enjoy it with his love, Molly. He even wore the ridiculous trousers! He has no time for interruptions such as uninvited minstrels and a mysterious messenger. As usual, though, he has no choice in the matter. One can only imagine the gossip that will result.  Yes, the Fool is actually the messenger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Messenger

"Her, sir."

"Revel?"

"Her. The messenger is a girl, sir. Scarcely a woman, by the look of her. Sir, I have my doubts about her being a messenger at all. If she is one, she has come a long and weary way, in her condition. I have offered her our best hospitality, of course, but she insists that she must see you."

I shook my head before Revel had finished speaking. I had had enough of delay, and minstrels who were not minstrels and messengers who were not messengers did not concern Holder Badgerlock as they might have concerned the Assassin's Apprentice years ago. The music beckoned and Molly was waiting. "Later. Give her my apologies and a bed for the night. See that she is comfortable. Rude as it may be to leave her waiting, it wouldn't do at all for me to neglect my lady wife. Let the minstrels play and let the messenger rest. Surely she is weary. I will hear her in the morning and not before."

"Sir." Revel's lips vanished in a thin, hard line, but he did not question me. His look of mild disapproval doubtless concealed some less than kind thoughts about his master's intelligence. He turned to return to the entrance hall, and I made my escape into the Great Hall.

\---

The evening passed in a blur of brightly coloured fabrics, feathers, and horse hair. The scents of perfumes and rich foods permeated the air, and the minstrels played their best to earn their coins. I felt giddy with the festivities and perhaps a bit too much wine as I twirled Molly in my arms and laughed with her as I missed a step. Her smile shon between her rosy cheeks and I stole a kiss without a care for the guests. Too many years had been denied to us during our youths for me to give up a single chance to show my love for the woman I had finally married. She blushed prettily, as though she was a maiden still, and I kissed her again.

"Fitz, please!" She protested, smiling, "We have company."

"I know," I answered, leaning close enough that my words ghosted through her hair. "It's Winterfest."

Molly huffed and took a step back. My arms felt empty without her and I followed, so that she was leading me in some bizarre dance. We both laughed and I released her. She surprised me by leaning up to kiss me on the cheek. The dancers parted around us like water around a river rock. I leaned forward to kiss her again, but she held up a hand to my chest. "Wine, I think," she suggested, "and a brief rest. I'm not as young as I was once."

"You are always a girl in my eyes," I smiled. "Punching all of the other boys for pulling your hair and stealing fish from the drying racks." Molly made a face and cuffed me on the arm. I laughed and followed her through the crowds to find an empty bench. I left her seated and then went in search of one of the serving boys.

I froze when a scream cut through the music, and turned in the direction from which it had come before I was aware of doing so. Revel's voice could be heard shouting. Had something happened to Nettle? Or to Molly? No, I'd left Molly on the bench and Riddle would protect Nettle. My every sense was alert and I was suddenly very aware of the small concealed weapons that never left my person. I was still standing there when a weight slammed into me, pushing through the crowds to barrel into my chest. I was caught off guard and I understood Web's discomfort with the minstrels. The person, smaller than me with tattered clothes, was hollow as a forged one, and invisible to my wit. It was as though a stool or a rock had come to life and attacked me. All of my memories of the Red Ship War came back in a rush and the music and the murmurs of the guests faded to my mind. My fingers found a small but wicked blade I'd had up my sleeve, and my hands came up of their own accord to ward off an attack. My assailant stilled as my fingers curled around a thin arm, and I heard a gasp as my blade made itself known against a pale throat. 

Revel caught up with us, his tall frame weaving through the crowd that had gathered. "I'm so sorry, sir, I don't know what-"

His voice drifted out of my awareness as I took in the figure I held at knife-point. Pale hair was matted with grease and dirt, and the colour of her clothing was indistinguishable. The fabric was stiff with layers of dust, mud, and stains that could have been dried blood. Her breath came as a bird's: shallow and quick. She had scars, I noticed, on her face. Amber eyes were wide as they stared back at me. The hollow girl trembled beneath my hands but made no move to escape, despite my bruising grip and the weapon that I held. A hand touched my shoulder, Riddle's, and I relaxed with an effort, releasing her. As soon as my grip eased, though, she surged forward and took a weak hold of my shirt.

Revel was standing there, looking disapproving and interested at once. "Sir, I tried to explain that you would see her on the morrow, and I thought that she understood, but she came running out here like a mad thing!" I did not know whether his irritation at the disruption of our party or his interest in the messenger would win the battle, but the conflict delayed him from taking action as he stood by, wringing his hands.

"Fitz, they're here. They followed me. It isn't safe," a voice said. My eyes snapped downwards. I knew that voice. Years had separated us, but it still shot like an arrow to my heart.

"Fool?"

The collection of features merged and the ragged messenger girl became my old friend. His cheekbones were more prominent than they had been, his nose had obviously been broken, but the pointed chin was the same, and so were his lips, though they appeared rough and dry. His hair was unbound and fell past his shoulders in a tangled mess that would have horrified the man as I knew him.

A fragile laugh tore free from my friend's lips, splitting them and sending a droplet of blood down his chin. He was still shaking badly, and I slid my knife away so that I could support him. "Beloved, I've missed you," he said. "To hear your voice again, I cannot describe it. But you must be wary. I've been hunted. They're here, the Servants." His fingers tighened in my shirt.

Revel looked offended.

"Tom, what goes on here?" Molly's voice sounded offended too. When had she followed me? Oddly, I realized that I'd never brought her wine to her.

I remembered to breathe just as my vision began to waver, and I took a deep breath. Too many people. "Excuse us." I pulled the Fool with me as I pushed my way through the crowd of guests, manners long forgotten. The Fool stayed pressed to my side as we passed the heavy oak doors and turned down the corridor. I glanced down to see his own gaze darting side to side, nervously. 

Only in the safety of my study did I begin to think again. I directed the Fool to sit my chair and my knees went weak, so I more collapsed than knelt before him. I heard the door open and shut, and I glanced back to see Riddle entering. A thousand questions warred in my mind, and I wanted to ask them all at once. Where were you? What happened to you? Why did you never send me any word? The most urgent came first: "Who hunts you?"

The Fool twitched in an aborted motion as though he meant to curl in on himself before his hand reached forward to touch mine, which rested on his knee. It made my stomach lurch to see his crooked fingers with their swollen joints. "The Servants. They want the Unexpected Son. I fear that they only let me live so that they might follow me to you, but I had to warn you. I had to find you."

I was unable to understand. The Fool's eyes followed Riddle's movements as he stirred the fire to life and fed it, and his every muscle was tense. "Fool. You're safe here. If Revel startled you, he meant no harm."

My old friend shook his head, and it gave me a pang of sadness to see him so afraid. "No. The Servants. Whites, like me, only not. They followed me here. The whole way. It was awful. Fitz, I don't know what they mean to do with you, but it can be nothing good. You mustn't let them." He let out a shuddering breath then and swayed before he pitched forward in the chair. I caught him by the shoulders and Riddle looked at me questioningly.

I thought about it. Riddle most likely did not recognize Lord Golden. "He's an old friend and says he's been followed. The minstrels from before. The foreign ones who were the last to arrive, see if you can find them. Make sure that Molly and Nettle are safe, as well. He wasn't making much sense, but I'll take no chances."

Riddle inclined his head and then gestured with a hand at the Fool, "Do you need any help?"

"I'm fine." I stood and carefully lifted the Fool into my arms. He weighed very little. The study had been my first choice as a safe haven, but it wouldn't do now. "Ask Revel to have someone bring hot water, towels, and bandaging to the yellow room, would you?" From what I had seen, I doubted that the Fool was unhurt. Even if he was, he was filthy and would doubtless welcome something to wash himself with.

"I will." Riddle departed, holding the door open for me and shutting it again before departing back to the hall with long, fast strides. I felt a rush of gratitude towards him for his reliability. I knew that I could trust him to do what needed to be done to keep my family safe.

I got the door to the yellow room open with some difficulty, and I laid the Fool down on the bed. He didn't stir, and I worried over him, feeling his head carefully for any sign of injury. Likely he'd just overexcited himself. I allowed myself some time to study my old friend and the weight of what I saw settled in my stomach like a stone. His face was gaunt and scarred in a way that suggested deliberate injury, rather than some accident. Above his gnarled hands, angry wounds that were red and oozing with infection circled his wrists.

What had happened to my Fool? Whoever had done it would pay dearly. I moved a chair next to the bed and sat, resting my head in my hands. This was not the reunion I'd envisioned. All of the anger I'd felt at him for leaving me was still there, but it was mixed. If he'd been well, my joy at seeing him again would not have stopped the feelings of anger or betrayal, but my concern at seeing him so broken and afraid silenced it, at least for the moment. I longed for answers.


End file.
